


Nightmares

by letmegeekatyou



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas's brainwashing, Communication, Consent Issues, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 19:43:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1700258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letmegeekatyou/pseuds/letmegeekatyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas has always been careful about Sam's consent, but Sam is realizing that Cas needs similar care.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> Written for rosworms on tumblr.

Cas has nightmares about his past. He can’t be sure whether they’re traces of real memories or just his brain trying to process the things he now knows he was part of, but they are dark and violent and terrifying. He sits on his own shoulder, a grotesque parody of an angel, immobile and voiceless as he kills the people Naomi points out to him, the people who have gotten in the way of Heaven or have been unlucky enough to be chosen as examples. Warnings. Demonstrations of the weapons Heaven can bring to bear against disobedience.

Castiel knows he has been a weapon, and it frightens him to think he could be again. That after everything, after rebelling and falling, Naomi was still able to reprogram him, to use him against those he loves. He is so afraid of being used.

Sam knows about the nightmares. It's more than the way the angel paces the bunker at night or the way he cries out in his sleep; it's in his eyes, in his voice when he asks for anything, always with a silent apology. It's in his hands and their gentleness when he touches Sam, their roughness when he touches himself. It's in the way he pulls at his hair, which sticks up from the way he has tossed and turned. It's in the way he wrings his own hands more and more, and reaches for Sam's less and less. The space in the center of their bed grows wider and wider.

Sam knows what it means. He sees himself in Cas, and it makes him want to hold him closer, to cling to him until he starts to believe that he is more than his past. But Sam also knows how it hurts to be held still and forced to accept love, so he doesn't do that. Instead, he asks how he can help.

They're sitting in the library when Sam brings it up, seeing how Cas nods over his book and wondering if he slept at all the night before.

"Cas, can I ask you something?"

"Of course, Sam," Cas answers, setting down the book heavily on the table in front of him.

"What are they about? The nightmares." Cas looks away for a moment, as if he's considering flight. Sam would understand, but he's relieved when he stays put, leaning forward to put his head in his hands. When Cas finally speaks, it sounds like a confession, like whispers in a church, hopeful and sad and a little afraid.

"I don't know if I can describe them. I forget... I lose pieces when I wake up. The faces change, the sounds. I can't hold on to them. I can't save them. I wake up when the light is going out of their eyes, and I can feel Naomi pulling my strings, but it's still me. I'm still the one who did it." He looks up, as if the faces are hovering now between him and Sam, dying over and over.

"Cas?"

"I was a weapon, Sam. I was made for it, built and trained for it. And I was _good_ at it." His hands turn to fists on top of his book, and Sam resists the urge to reach out to him. "It's all still in me. I could kill you with barely a thought."

Cas is always careful. Always gentle and always adamant about asking permission for every touch, so insistent that Sam _say_ what he wants. Sam has always thought it was about the Cage, about Sam's fears, but it's more than that.

"You'd never hurt me," he says, quietly. It isn't a question.

"You don't know that." Cas is angry now; his chair scrapes against the floor as he pulls it back and steps away from the table. He hovers there, trapped in a limbo between falling into Sam's arms and running from him. "Neither do I. We don't know what they can still do to me."

Sam knows he's not wrong; there's too much they don't know about Heaven. But he can't let Cas keep thinking this way. He can't let the space between them keep growing, because it will swallow them both alive.

"Okay, fine, I don't know that. But I believe it. I believe in you. And maybe that's a small thing--I'm just one guy, and not much of one--but I _know_ you, Castiel. I know how hard you've fought not to be like those other dicks, how much you've given up because something in you _knew_ things weren't right." Sam stands up slowly, not walking toward Cas, but wanting the angel to look him in the eyes. "I don't know how many times they tried to erase you, but every time, Cas. _Every time_ , you came back. You beat the worst that Heaven could do to you, because you couldn't let yourself hurt people anymore.

"That's the real you, Cas. I love that you. I _trust_ that you." He voice shakes. Cas looks so afraid. "Please say you trust me, too."

"I do, Sam. But I don't know what that means."

"It means you let me show you that you're your own person. You just have to be honest with me, Cas. That's all I need." He takes a step forward. "Cas, can I hug you?"

Cas sways on his feet for a moment before wrapping his arms around himself. "No," he answers. "Not now."

"Okay. That's okay." Sam can't completely push away the sadness he feels at the answer, but he smiles anyway. "You always make me feel safe, Cas. I feel safe with you, and I want you to feel safe with yourself. We'll figure it out, okay?"

"Okay."

And after that talk, knowing what follows Cas in his sleep, Sam starts asking more questions. He always asks Cas what he wants to do, in bed and elsewhere: always “what do you think?” or “where should we go?”, never “don’t you want to?” or “let’s do this” or “you should.” Because he knows Cas can never be sure exactly what he was forced to do under Naomi’s orders, whose trust and love he violated. Sam never misses a chance to remind Cas that he doesn’t have to take orders anymore. That he belongs to himself, and his body is his, and his desires are good and come from his own heart. Cas starts touching him again, and it makes Sam's heart soar.

It thrills Sam to ask what Cas wants, to have him whisper in Sam’s ear, “I want to desecrate the kitchen while Dean is out” or, “I want to hold you tightly and bite bruises into your back when I come.” And it thrills Cas to hear Sam growl back, “yes, please” or, “I want that, too.” But each “no” is just as beautiful. “No” means trust just as much as “yes” does, because “no” means “this is a way you could hurt me.”

Cas also admits that he likes to look Sam in the eyes when they make love. He is afraid of feeling like a tool. Even though he knows Sam would never _use_ him, being able to look in his eyes reminds him of their separate agency and their mutual consent. Seeing Sam’s eyes makes it feel safer to close his own.

Sam likes that, too. He likes being _seen_ by Cas. Whatever their bodies are doing, when their eyes meet, each of them is entirely himself, acknowledged and equal. It is having control and knowing that it will never be taken from them that allows them to give up that control in each other’s arms. It makes it that much sweeter to say yes, knowing they can always say no.


End file.
